PROCRASTINATION

So, as  another weekend drifts into history, and the stifling heat of an unexpected warm spell in an otherwise damp year makes everyone except the sun worshippers tetchier and tetchier, I can reflect upon a weekend that was suppose to be busy but, in the end, one that turned out to be one of those where I got precious little actually done.

And, unfortunately, there really is so much that ought to have been done, but somehow I've just put it all off and wasted two days lying around feeling exhausted whilst listening to the cricket commentary for most of the day before sitting myself down and watching the highlights of the very same game that I'd been listening to all day for a fairly hefty chunk of the evening.

Still, at least they don't tend to bring any unexpected surprises along with them.

Gad... It was hot... One thing you can say about last weekend was that it was hot.

Hot and exhausting.

Two things!

Two things you can say about last weekend was that it was hot and exhausting and just the kind of weather where you really struggle to bring yourself to be bothered.

Three things... Oh, you get the idea...

But there's mountains of paperwork that I ought to be attending to, some of it not even my own, and the "Stuff To Do" list seems to be growing ever longer whilst the "Stuff Done" list doesn't even get a piece of paper with "Stuff Done" written at the top of it. Come to think of it, even the "Stuff To Do" list hasn't actually been written down yet, with me preferring instead to let the endless list orbit my brain in that continually worrying way that keeps me even more awake throughout the hot, sticky nights, and eventually drags me out of bed in the wee small hours to procrastinate even more at a keyboard complaining about the stuff I'm not doing instead of actually doing it.

How did I become one of those people who ignores their paperwork? Is it just the fatigue born out of endless months of hospital visits, or is it perhaps something far more fundamental? Have I begun not to care, or do things worry me so much that I've become dysfunctional simply because of the panic that it all induces in my soul...?

If I had managed to drag myself out of the gutter of life and become a "someone" of course, I might just be able to afford to employ another someone to do my stuff for me, but then, of course, I'd only worry that they either weren't doing it properly, or that they weren't getting their own stuff done because of doing all mine, and that the total list of the entire world's "Stuff To Do" lists was building into an epic mountain of stuff that could not possibly be completed in all of our collective lifetimes.

When did life start to get so very complicated for everyone?

Wasn't the coming of the so-called Digital Age supposed to make all of our lives a little easier?

So how come everyone now ends up with so much to do?

It seems that everything we do nowadays has so many terms and conditions, and passwords, and regulations, and paperwork that comes along with it all, and insurance, and security, and changes to terms and conditions, and updates to software that means that the software you bought no longer is allowed to work in quite the same way and so on and so on ad nauseum, that sometimes it just seems far easier to just chuck the envelopes into a handy carrier bag and decide to worry about it later...

Or is that just me...?